


Snow Picnic

by locusinbloom (Fractual_Visions)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Marriage Proposal, Romance, community: naughtylokiconfessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 15:06:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1189665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fractual_Visions/pseuds/locusinbloom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki and Molly go on a picnic. Things develop from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow Picnic

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely adore this pairing, even though it is rare in the wild.
> 
> Done for the [Naughty Loki Confessions](http://naughtylokiconfessions.tumblr.com) blog of which I am a devoted follower.

Molly liked tall, dark-haired men. Why? Who knew. She didn’t think about a reason. She didn’t think about a name. She didn’t think about deft hands, turned up collars, endless rudeness. Incisive logic. Unexpected moments of vulnerability.

She really liked Loki. He was tall, dark-haired, long fingered, impeccably dressed, smart, rude, and his name didn’t start with S. Not that she cared what letter her boyfriend’s name started with. At all.

He also claimed to be a god. That was a little weird, but after years of putting up with Sherlock, she figured she could handle anything.

He took her out on wonderful dates every Friday. Had done so for the past six months. He still wouldn’t tell her where he lived, but she figured he probably had a wife or another girlfriend. She might have felt bad for that, except Sherlock’s fuck other people’s sensibilities attitude had gradually rubbed off on her. It wasn’t her fault if he was cheating, not when she didn’t know that for sure.

The dates themselves were often a surprise. Her only clue for tonight was “dress warm and bring an umbrella”. Which made sense, because it was early March and raining.

Molly was waiting by the door when Loki arrived. He had a cab ready by the curb and Molly grabbed her purse. With a soft smile and a kiss on the cheek, he led her out. His arm was around her waist and she relaxed into his hold.

That was another difference between Loki and… other dark-haired men. She was never anxious around Loki. Their time together was not an endless effort to impress him for scraps of affection. Not that she minded doing that with… other people, but it did get tiresome. This was nice.

She guessed that Loki must be pretty rich. He always took her to fancy restaurants and paid. It might have bothered her, except that he never seemed to want anything in return. Even his kisses were chaste. Molly liked sex as much as the next girl. She’d even done a few things in college that made her blush just to remember them. Yet after their fourth date without any sexual overtures, Molly had settled down into it contentedly.

She had never had a relationship so satisfying and uncomplicatedly simple. The word courtship sounded silly to her, but she secretly called it that anyway. He was courting her. The cab wound its way out of London proper, into the suburbs, and dropped them at a small, secluded park.

The rain had let up a bit and the temperature had risen a few degrees above freezing. Slush lay in piles on the ground and even some brown grass could be seen in places. From the cab, Loki produced a blanket and a basket.

Molly stared incredulously. “Are we, um, having a picnic?”

"Yes."

Molly nodded and grabbed the blanket. Too much time with Sherlock had conditioned her to stop measuring requests by weirdness and measure them by willingness. Yes, if Loki wanted a picnic in the snow, she was willing try it once.

They set up in an alcove sheltered on three sides by high hedgerows. From the basket, Loki pulled out a thermos of hot chocolate, a fresh, steaming apple pie, and a stack of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Molly had never told anyone about the PB&J sandwiches, her favorite guilty pleasure. That Loki had managed to figure it out anyway (and make them for her on a regular basis) was one of the reasons she lov— liked him. She liked guys with good detective skills.

She pulled off her gloves to pick up a sandwich. The chill changed her mind; she put them back on and started chowing down. The picnic was good. Cold, but good. Loki was his usual attentive self, filling her cup whenever it got low and asking her about her work. He made jokes at Sherlock’s expense and shared the latest stories about his own dysfunctional family, from whom he was trying to distance himself.

By the end of the meal, Molly’s body had acclimated. She had taken off her gloves and hat and had even partially unzipped her coat. A few brave squirrels were out foraging for the year’s first offerings. Molly tossed crumbs on the snow, in case a few birds might come by.

"This was an unexpectedly good idea," she praised. "You’re the best!"

Loki sat up and stared at her intently. It was a serious look, different enough from Loki’s usual sweet smiles and mischievous grins that Molly tensed.

"What’s wrong?" She asked.

"You and I. We’ve been dating a long while, by mortal reckoning."

Oh. So it was going to be a relationship talk. Molly tried a half smile to see how it fit on her face. These talks rarely ended well for her.

"You are dear to me, but there is something which stands yet between us. You don’t actually believe I’m a god," he said.

Molly flushed, completely left-footed. “Well. There are all kinds of gods. I mean, it’s not like it’s impossible, I guess. It’s just that I haven’t met a whole lot of gods, so I don’t know what they — you, you!— are like, exactly.”

The conversation they were having was not the one she thought they were going to be having.

"Would you like me to prove it to you?" Loki said ‘prove it’ the way other people said ‘poison myself’.

Molly blinked. “Okay.”

Loki’s body turned blue.

One part of Molly’s brain refused to believe what it was seeing and ran away in protest. Another was screaming hypothermia, hypothermia and a hysterical injunction to do something, now damnit! She couldn’t do anything. She was years out of practise in field nursing and, anyway, whatever this was, it wasn’t a bad case of frostbite. The third part marvelled at the intricate beauty of his skin, which was blue like the frost on a window pane in the early morning or like the glint of moonlight on a frozen lake.

After a moment, it melted away, returning unblemished to the more usual tone of not-blue.

"Oh, wow," she breathed.

"Now you have seen me naked, Molly Hooper. Am I still the best to you?"

"I think," she paused to consider her words, "I think you are even better."

Loki’s smile crawled up his face and settled in his eyes, glowing pleased and sensuous. From the basket, he drew out a small box and handed it to her.

"I do not understand all the customs of this Realm," he said, "yet I am told that such a token marks this moment for you English Midgardians."

Molly opened it. Nestled within the box on a small pillow were two identical engagement rings. She picked hers up without hesitation and slipped it on.

"Oh! Oops." She cringed. "I was supposed to let you do that."

"It is beautiful to see you marked as mine, no matter how so done."

Loki picked up the remaining ring and placed it on his own hand. There it melted into the flesh, a sight which both terrified and fascinated Molly. Loki leaned over the blanket and took Molly’s face in his hands.

"Let me kiss you now," he urged. She nodded eagerly.

Their lips touched, a light pressure which grew steadily more insistent. He pushed her slowly back, off the blanket and into the snow, without separating their lips. On the ground, snow bunched up under her collar.

With the whispered touch of a forked tongue—-like a snake, she thought distractedly—-Molly’s lips parted. Their frozen breath mingled together in the air as their mouths licked and sucked and stroked. With each wet touch, Molly felt a little piece of the pent up ache in her heart—years and years of waiting for Sherlock to notice her—ease and dissipate.

What she had now, it was better. Molly surrendered herself to it, mewled and arched into it, until she felt nothing except the fire of Loki’s mouth and the ice behind her back.


End file.
